Chapter 21: Chapter 21 Dreams Never Die

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

“`

However, it seemed that God did not grant Jessica’s birthday wish, or at least, only granted it partially.

“Regrettably, Mr. Wang, we feel that your movie is not suitable for the big screen. Who would want to watch such blurry images?”

“Sorry, please forgive our bluntness, but your thing compared to a movie is like a graceful gentleman to a winking clown. Clowns belong in the circus, not in the movie theater.”

“Release this movie? No, of course not… No, we don’t need to think about it, kid. Movies aren’t that simple. Do you want us to take a big fall?”

More than half a month had passed since Jessica’s birthday, and in that time, Wang Yang had visited dozens of movie companies, almost having covered the whole of Los Angeles, only to receive one “NO” after another.

From being initially full of confidence and drive, he had now become tired and disheartened. Yet every morning, he had to muster his spirits and continue running around Los Angeles, spending the rest of his time working part-time jobs just to barely maintain a frugal existence.

Since his work hours were not stable, aside from his night shift at McDonald’s, his other jobs were both strenuous and exhausting, like handing out flyers in a heavy mascot costume under the scorching midday sun, sweltering and sweating profusely; a person with a weaker constitution would have fainted long ago. Then there was moving furniture for a company, and by bedtime, his arms were so sore and limp that he struggled to fall asleep.

Sometimes he felt so numb from exhaustion that he experienced bouts of despair. Damn it, why was he working so hard, enduring so much suffering, and for what?

Today was no different, having visited a film company in the day and been mercilessly mocked, “Naïve, innocent, are you crazy?” Afterward, he rushed to a downtown McDonald’s to start his evening shift.

The McDonald’s job was his main source of income and the only one with fixed working hours, from seven in the evening to midnight, five hours a day.

It was always easy to find a job at McDonald’s due to the high workload and low salary. Wang Yang was earning seven US dollars per hour, just a bit more than the minimum wage in California; and as this McDonald’s was near a movie theater and other entertainment venues as well as parking lots, it was almost always busy with no moments of rest. Sometimes, Wang Yang couldn’t help but lament in his mind, “My God, is there really no KFC around here?”

Glancing at the red-headed Ronald McDonald figure sitting on the bench by the store entrance, Wang Yang walked into the fast-food restaurant adorned with a big “M,” and right away saw a white, obese man in a McDonald’s waiter uniform.

He weighed at least three hundred pounds, with a fat face featuring a double chin and sideburns; he was serving a tray of burgers to the customers. When he saw Wang Yang, dressed smartly, he chuckled and said, “Hey, buddy. Wow, all dressed up again, just back from Silicon Valley? Or Wall Street?”

This hefty guy was Harry George, in his twenties, a full-time employee here and a nice person. After almost a month of getting to know him, Wang Yang had grown familiar with him, and they could be considered friends with a fairly good relationship. However, they never delved into deep talks, and the hefty guy knew nothing of Wang Yang’s predicament or about his filmmaking endeavors.

“The White House!” Wang Yang rolled his eyes and walked straight to the staff locker room inside the store, carrying his briefcase. The rejection he’d gotten from the film company that day was the worst so far, and his mood was terrible; he was not in the mood for jokes.

“Heartbroken?” Harry George shrugged his shoulders, turned back to look at Wang Yang’s retreating figure, and yelled, “Buddy, lighten up. It’s not a big deal. Trust me, I’ve got tons of experience with this!”

Wang Yang did not turn back but raised his hand to wave dismissively, indicating he did not want to be bothered. He walked into the locker room, changed into the McDonald’s brown and black uniform, put on a black cap with an “M”, took a deep breath as he looked at himself in the mirror, and walked out.

“`

There are still a few minutes left before 7 PM, so there’s a bit of downtime to rest; after 7:30 PM, there’d be no such hope. After serving several customers, with no new ones coming in, Wang Yang, Harry, and the others could take a short break.

The restaurant’s television was playing a TV movie called “Donald and Heston,” a city love story, and the screen was showing a scene where the protagonists were about to kiss. Harry George suddenly got excited and exclaimed, “Oh, look at this shot, it’s so poorly done! What were the director and cinematographer of this movie trying to do?” He kept sighing and said, “I can’t believe my eyes, have their brains been stuffed with horse dung? A crappy movie!”

Wang Yang looked at him, smiled, this fat man would always undergo a dramatic change of attitude whenever he watched these TV movies, constantly complaining and cursing as if he had deep-seated grudges against those directors. Normally, Wang Yang didn’t interject, but since he was in a bad mood today, he couldn’t help saying, “Oh, then tell me, why is this movie so crappy?”

Harry George’s eyes were glued to the TV screen as he responded to Wang Yang’s question, “Oh man, there are so many crappy parts, like that cross-cutting montage just now. The male protagonist and the female protagonist each run from opposite ends of the town to the center, meet and kiss, right?” He analyzed, “During their runs, there should be medium shots taken straight on to capture their expressions, followed by an aerial shot to include both them and the town in the frame; only when they come together should there be close-ups and extreme close-ups. It’s with these camera positions that you’d get the best effect!”

Looking at Wang Yang, he spread out his hands and disdainfully said, “But from beginning to end, they shot it all in close-ups from a straight angle and slightly to the side, oh my god, talk about crappy!?”

Wang Yang was taken aback, not expecting the fat man to come up with such a professional critique and, indeed, shooting with his suggested techniques would certainly produce a better effect. He smiled and said, “Harry, you’re right.” Harry George looked immediately pleased with himself, “Of course, I am.”

But before he could bask in his triumph for long, Wang Yang shifted the conversation, “However, you’re obviously overlooking one thing. This is a low-budget TV movie; controlling the budget is very important. Think about it, how would you complete that aerial shot? With a helicopter.” He suddenly felt very helpless, sighing, “So it’s not necessarily that the director or cinematographer is stupid, it’s just that sometimes you know doing it a certain way would be better, but you just can’t.”

“Please, what do you know?” Harry George’s chubby face was filled with disagreement as he snorted, “It’s just one shot, how much would it cost to rent a helicopter to shoot?”

“That shot would require a helicopter, but what about the other shots? A movie is at least 90 minutes long, Harry,” Wang Yang shook his head, “It’s a matter of scale, like eating a burger at McDonald’s, you wouldn’t expect a violinist to stand next to you and play a tune.”

Harry George wanted to say more, but just then, Smith Sean, who was in charge of the cash register, chuckled and interjected, “Yang, stop arguing with Harry, he’s a photographer after all. Of course, that would be if he got accepted into a university.” He shrugged, taking sneering pleasure at Harry’s expense, and drawled, “Oh, that’s his dream.”

At the mention of the word “dream,” Harry George suddenly deflated like a popped balloon, with a gloomy expression he waved his hand, “Don’t talk to me about dreams; my dream is already dead. It was killed by reality.” After that, he lost the appetite for watching TV and sulkily approached a new customer who had just come in.

A photographer, huh? So, has Harry already given up? Wang Yang fell silent. He suddenly remembered Anne Darren, the blonde girl with a few freckles on her nose, he remembered the night she asked with a lost and puzzled expression, “Director, should I go home?”

Should I go home? Wang Yang sighed. These days, he was being rejected every day, repeating failures daily, and now he could better understand Anne’s pain, chasing dreams only to be battered repeatedly, unable to see the road ahead, living each day in bitterness and exhaustion, in confusion, anxiety…

Maybe putting down these so-called dreams and living another kind of life would be better? Perhaps it would be simpler, maybe not what one wants, but without all this pain and struggle. Just like that cross-cutting montage just now, some things you know doing them a certain way would be better, but you simply can’t; isn’t that reality? It killed that movie and also killed Harry’s dream.

Wang Yang was startled, shuddering all over; no, it couldn’t be like this! He frowned, what had he said to Anne Darren that day?

“If you enjoy it, you must stick with it. Not even God can take away my pursuit of cinema; I don’t want to end up regretting when I’m old…”

Would he regret it later on? Or would he end up like Harry, gesticulating and swearing at every movie, saying “Oh, please, that’s not how it’s done! If it were me, I would have done a much better job than that guy.”

Why sit in a cinema and say all these things?! Why not just do it?

Isn’t life about doing the things you like? Why live each day so mundanely? Think about it—if just the thought of frying dishes every day in a restaurant sends shivers down your spine, wouldn’t spending your whole life doing things you don’t enjoy be even more painful? And now, coming home exhausted every day, then waking up early in the morning, feeling full of anticipation for the new day; you wouldn’t have that anticipation in a restaurant.

Did Annie go home? Wang Yang recalled the joy of filming and smiled faintly. No, he felt that Annie wouldn’t go home, even if she was just an extra. And he, he wouldn’t go home either.

How could dreams die? Look at Harry—he never really let go, raging at the television every day, his dream still alive; he was merely running from it.

But I won’t run away! Wang Yang pumped himself up, clenching his fist and giving it a swing. At that moment, the store started to get busy. A black mother with a child walked in, and Wang Yang greeted her with enthusiasm, smiling, “Welcome to McDonald’s, how may I help you?”

Customers kept streaming in. As a server, he had to take their orders, fetch and serve meals, and sometimes even clean up the tables after some guests who ate and ran. Wang Yang was so busy he barely had time to catch his breath.

After taking an order for a couple, he headed back to the kitchen to fetch the meal, only to find Harry George slumped against a wall, slacking off. He couldn’t help but walk over and jokingly kicked the big guy’s rear, saying, “Hey, buddy, slacking off like this is really unprofessional, don’t you think!?”

“Please, I’ve been working all day long, can’t I rest for a bit?” Harry replied weakly, continuing to lean against the wall without moving.

Wang Yang chuckled and was about to grab a burger when his cellphone in his pocket suddenly rang. Who would be calling him at this hour? He frowned, took it out, and upon seeing the caller ID, he couldn’t help but feel overjoyed—it was Rachel who he hadn’t been in touch with for a long time. He glanced at Harry, thinking that he might as well slack off for a bit too. He pressed the answer button and said with a smile, “Hi, Rachel?”

“Hi, Yang, good evening!” Rachel’s voice came through the phone, followed by a light laugh, “We haven’t been in touch for so long, why didn’t you call me?”

Wang Yang was busy every day running around film companies and working to earn money. When he got home, he was so tired he would lie down immediately, sometimes too lazy even to take a shower, let alone find time to talk on the phone—not to mention, more importantly, to save on phone bills… He felt embarrassed to tell the truth, so he joked, “Oh, the number 6 key on my phone is broken, you know, your number has quite a few 6s… haha, how have you been recently?”

Rachel laughed, saying, “Well, things have settled down, just going to school, attending classes, eating, sleeping. And you?”

“Me? I’ve been doing great, going on Los Angeles day tours, listening to people sing ‘NO, NO.'” Wang Yang thought of his recent experiences, and for some reason, he didn’t feel defeated but rather a bit excited. He exclaimed, “Wow, I never knew there were so many film companies in Los Angeles. Did you know? The names of some of these companies are so bizarre; the funniest one was called ‘Poison Film Company.'”

He couldn’t help but laugh, “Oh my God, are they specializing in box office poison?” Rachel also burst into laughter after hearing this. After some laughter, Wang Yang then asked, “Rachel, did you need something from me? Uh, I’m currently part-timing at McDonald’s and can’t slack off for too long.”

“Oh! I didn’t realize, am I bothering you?” Rachel said apologetically. Upon hearing Wang Yang say it was fine, she continued, “Yang, so I will cut to the chase. Since you haven’t called me in so long, I guessed that you were having troubles with the film distribution; otherwise, you would have already told me the good news, right?” Wang Yang nodded, “Yes, you’re right, you’re smart.”

Rachel spoke quickly, “So, a few days ago, I was talking to one of my teachers about DV films, about you, and this teacher happens to know the manager of the distribution department at Lionsgate Films, Jon Feltheimer—they are good friends; then I asked my teacher to introduce Mr. Feltheimer to me; afterwards, I contacted him, and then, he expressed interest in your film and would like to meet with you.”

“Lionsgate Films?” Wang Yang pondered for a moment. It was quite a well-known film company. He had intended to contact them earlier, but because their headquarters wasn’t located in Los Angeles but rather in Santa Monica, a coastal city north of Los Angeles International Airport, he hadn’t yet made contact with Lionsgate.

Now, thanks to Rachel’s kindness, it seemed he was going to set off for Santa Monica sooner than planned. Wang Yang smiled gratefully, “Alright, Rachel, thank you! Then give me Mr. Feltheimer’s contact information, please.”

“OK,” Rachel said, followed by the sound of rummaging through a bag. After a while, she spoke again, “Yang, listen, this is the main switchboard number for Lionsgate… And this is Mr. Feltheimer’s mobile number…”

Wang Yang tore off a piece of paper for notes and jotted down the numbers with a ballpoint pen. After double-checking for any mistakes, he smiled, “Thank you, Rachel. I’ll contact them.”

“Yang, I had a long chat with Mr. Feltheimer over the phone, and I could tell he has no prejudice against DV films. You will definitely succeed,” Rachel said, offering words of encouragement before adding, “Alright, I won’t disturb you any longer, bye!”

“Goodbye, good night,” Wang Yang ended the call, tucked the piece of paper with the numbers into his pocket, and smiled. Wow, another opportunity! So why go home?

Harry George appeared from nowhere, leaving the wall with a puzzled look on his face. He eyed Wang Yang and asked, “What did I just hear? Buddy, your movie? You made a movie?”

Wang Yang nodded, seeing no reason to deny, “I shot a movie with DV and have been seeking distribution this month.” As he spoke, he carried his tray to the kitchen counter, asking the chef to prepare the food listed on the order.

Harry George followed Wang Yang, seemingly gloating as he laughed, “Hey, I bet you’ve hit a wall everywhere, right? Those movie companies must have made you feel worthless? ‘Oh, you’re just a pile of crap,’ ‘Save it, look at yourself, you should stick to McDonald’s’…”

“Yes, you guessed right,” Wang Yang shrugged casually.

“Buddy, it’s not that easy!” Harry George snorted, folding his arms and shaking his head with a knowing look. “I was just like you now, foolishly going to those Hollywood studios trying my luck. Then they’d say, ‘Oh, go home, fatso. Photography isn’t for you, just go home.'” He patted Wang Yang’s shoulder, “Buddy, I’ve seen through it. Everyone has dreams, but not everyone can realize them.”

“I don’t care. How would I know if they can be achieved if I don’t try?” Wang Yang said with determination. When he saw Harry George’s look of disdain, he suddenly asked, “How many crews did you try your luck with back then?” Harry replied impatiently, “A dozen or so, who remembers?”

Wang Yang laughed out loud, took the plate filled with food from the chef, and walked out, saying to Harry with a smile, “Buddy, let me tell you, in the past month, I have been to fifty-four film companies! Soon, it will be fifty-five.”

Harry was taken aback, then grasped the meaning of those words. He gritted his teeth and called out to Wang Yang’s retreating back with conviction, “Buddy, I’ll tell you too, you will fail! We’re those kinds of people, losers.”

“Fail? Then there’s the fifty-sixth, the fifty-seventh…” Taking a few steps, Wang Yang turned back, winked at Harry, and smiled, “My dream won’t die.”

Harry, gasping with rage and scrunching his plump face, yelled, “Even with a hundred, you will fail!”

“Oh, then there’s the hundred and first.”

“Fail! Fail! Fail…” Harry kept shouting loudly, trying to drown out Wang Yang’s words. It wasn’t until Wang Yang had left the kitchen that he finally stopped, panting heavily, his eyes flashing with complex emotions. My dream won’t die?! He cursed, “That damn bastard!”